The Defender
by Sentury
Summary: Being a soldier, Hector was prepared for death, but what he wasn't prepared for was watching his friend almost die right before his eyes protecting him. And yet, perhaps that's what it would take to really make him see.


_A/N: So this Fic was inspired by Kitten Kisses's " More then Words" and Sardonic Kender Smile's "Priceless." Both fantastic stories in their own right (also ones I would suggest) and the very reason I'm doing a Farina/Hector story (they made me love the pair). That being said, don't expect this do be anywhere as good. Enjoy, Hopefully._

* * *

Hector would never understand her, mercenaries were supposed to be without honor. Granted Ilia's bunch had a marginally better reputation than the rest, but they were hardly ever described as so…so selfless. And to think he was saying such a thing about a woman who valued herself at four times the going rate. She'd been worth it though, he couldn't deny that.

"Hector," said Serra, there was a sympathy in her voice, and a momentary hesitance that made it clear she didn't know what to say, "You should go, you'll just be tormenting yourself here."

"No more than her." He gestured at a still Farina, lifeless but for the frail fluttered mutterings of her attempts at breathing. She laid on her stomach, shirtless, but covered in a cluster of bandages that covered her back, each one stained in a murky red.

"The worst has past, Hector," she said with a gentle hand on his shoulder. It always surprised him whenever Serra was so compassionate, she could be so self-absorbed that it was often easy to forget that she was, in fact, a seasoned cleric. "I've healed her wound, it's just a fever now is all now."

But Hector couldn't believe that, not when she looked so frail. She was always small, half his size on a good day, but now, seeing her lying in that bed, in fits of exasperated breathing – well, it looked like a strong wind could break her in half. How could he have ever seen this fragile little thing as someone so strong, so fearless?

When he didn't respond Serra gave a sigh and said defeated, "Okay then, I'm going to get something to eat. I'll be back soon." And she left, leaving Hector alone with his friend and his guilt.

He couldn't understand why this happened, not to a woman like her, not after everything she'd been through, everything she had to do. After everything she'd told him, after she'd finally gotten some decent pay, and finally gotten her to soften up to him. Hector rubbed the sides of his temple, and at once it all came back to him.

* * *

_"You have to go back, Lord Hector!" Right as the words left her lips; Farina's lance found the chest of another enemy as her opponent fell lifeless to the ground._

_ Hector clutched his right thigh, he had to wonder when things had gotten so bad, "I'm fine, Farina, it's not as bad as it looks," Hector pondered why he lied to her, he wasn't fine, his leg was throbbing and just standing was excruciatingly painful, but for some reason, the thought of leaving Farina's side frightened him. As if to prove his point, Hector lunged at the archer who had put the arrow through his thigh and brought the full weight of his axe down on the man, he died almost instantly._

_ "See?" Hector said with a weak smile, "Fine."_

_ Yet his smile was quick to fad as a swordsman soon filled the archer's place and thrust his blade at Hector's sternum. It should have been a simple attack to dodge, a move to his right was the answer, Hector thought. Yet, as he tried to shift his weight his body betrayed him while pain seemed to grip every inch of his being, and he cried out in agony. He heard Farina yell something; he wondered when she had gotten so far away. As a last ditch effort, he tried to raise his axe to deflect the blow, but he found that it had gotten heavier and he collapsed to the floor, only able to stare at the wound on his thigh, he wondered where all that blood had come from. In the microseconds that followed, Hector cursed his stupid leg, this stupid swordsman, and found, sadly, that the only thing he thought to do as death approached him, was curse and complain about life. _

_ Then, in a flash of white and blue, Farina's lance cut through his would-be killer's leg and the man dropped to his knees before a second blow to his chest killed him. And yet, when he should been overwhelmed with joy and relief, the only emotions that tugged at the strings of Hector's heart were grief and misery as he watched a bear of a man burry an axe in Farina's back, the why she shrieked with pain was ten times worse than any wound Hector had ever received in battle. She fell down face first in front of him, writhing in pain as her blood mixed with his._

_ As the man raised his axe to finish her off, Hector lamented that there could be no worse way to die than to have to watch his friend – no, the woman he loved cut down right before him. _

_He was the lord, he was the leader, they should kill him first, she should watch him die, he thought, it was a selfish request, he knew, but he wasn't sure he could take watching it, and besides, Farina was always the stronger out of the two of them._

"_Farina." he whispered with all his strength, in a shattered, broken voice. And he reached his hand out, as if touching her would somehow save them both, as if that was all that life needed. _

_His hand was still outstretched when an arrow came out of nowhere and pierced their assailant's throat. He heard a shout, the clang of steel, another arrow, and then Mark shouting orders. Someone crouched down beside him and he felt the warm glow of a staff as the pain began to leave him._

"_No," he tried with his hand still out stretched, "Save _her_." But they ignored him, and the world faded to black._

* * *

"You're still here." And suddenly, Hector was no longer on the battlefield. The grass field dissolved around him, the blood soaked streets and stench of death left, all replaced with the soft red silk of a tent and a single bed carrying a broken girl. He did not need to see his visitor to know who it was; Hector and Eliwood had been friends for too long to need things like sight to validate each other's presence.

Yet still, Hector was silent.

"Hector, you can't blame yourself." Hector could sense his sincerity, but it was misguided all the same.

"You should have healed her first." Unintentionally, as if Eliwood was to blame, Hector's words were laced with an icy coldness.

"Serra and Priscilla both said it wouldn't have –''

"I don't care if it would have mattered, Eliwood." Hector's head fell to his hands, "We owed it to her."

"You're a leader of this army, Hector," Eliwood came beside him then, as if making his presence known would somehow strengthen the resolve of his words, "that besides, you're the current heir to the Ostian throne."

The words rang hallow in Hector's ears. Leader, lord, throne – words, nothing more, words made into titles which were somehow given power. They did nothing to rationalize Hector's misgivings, nothing to ease his burden of his soul. Because in his heart, Hector knew that he was a man before anything else – a person, and Farina was a person too, one deserving of more kindness than he.

"And she's a mercenary. A mercenary fighting for us, for our cause, what's the difference other than a circumstance of birth?"

"I didn't know you were such a student of philosophy." Hector smiled at that because he knew Eliwood agreed. And he suspected that Eliwood surrendered his argument because he didn't even believe the truth in his words. And still, despite that knowledge, Hector felt another kind of sadness because he also knew – or was discovering – that truth and reality are rarely the same.

"You should have heard the things she told me, Eliwood, you don't know what she's been through." Hector felt a sting in his eyes, and so he took a moment to swallow back something, "They…they made her do things. She wasn't just a hired lance. They wanted her for her body as much as they did her fighting abilities – maybe more."

Hector felt a hand on his should, and was thankful for it.

"The least we could have done was just heal her first." He was rambling now, he knew, but for some reason he couldn't stop himself, "After everything that's happened to her, and after she saved me, we could have just healed her first."

"You love her." It was not a question, Hector noticed.

He paused, unsure how to respond until he realized the only way _to _respond, "Yes, very much."

"That could cause problems." Eliwood smiled at Hector, and Hector smiled back.

"To hell if I care." That got a laugh out of Eliwood, though Hector thought he suspected the answer.

"Try and get some sleep, Hector," Eliwood removed his hand from Hector's shoulder and made a move to leave, but paused at the exit, "you'll need it to keep up with her when she wakes up."

Alone again, Hector started to ponder the meaning in his words. Saying he loved Farina filled him with a kind of odd joy. He supposed he always knew it, somewhere deep inside, but saying it seemed to give it a new life, an existence of its own. He feared, for a moment, the kind of repercussions marrying an Ilian mercenary might bring, but they all subsided when he pictured how beautiful Farina would look in her wedding dress, and the look of glee she would give him when he asked her to marry him. Forget those fools on the council, and all the aristocrats, he'd never paid them much mind anyway, why should he now?

Besides, he thought, Farina had been through so much, and seeing her now, tortured and in pain, he wanted nothing more than to care for her. To love her in a way that would mean pain would never burden her again. He wanted to hold her when the nightmares of her past employers gripped her in the night, or the memories of being cold and alone with no money or anything to eat. He wanted, more than anything, to protect her.

However, another thought somehow found its way into the confines of his mind, what if she didn't love him? The signs were there, true, but signs when it came to women could often be misconstrued. Suddenly, the joy left him, and he was filled with a fear like he'd never known.

He moved a hand to stroke the back of her head, letting his fingers run through her hair as she laid there.

"What about it, Farina," he said, to no one in particular, "Do you love me too?"

And with her eyes still closed, and for all accounts still seemingly in a state of slumber, Farina's voice pierced the air – rasped and weak with misuse, "Yes, Lord Hector, I do love you."

"Farina," he whispered back, and he saw her lips curve into a happy smile.

"Can you stop watching me sleep now?" she asked shuffling in her cot, "It's creepy."

Hector couldn't help but laugh at that, but he did comply, for he realized that he was quite tired. So he leaned over and kissed Farina's forehead and moved to go. And yet, Farina spoke again right as he went to lift the flap to leave.

"And Lord Hector," she said, eyes still shut and smiling innocently, "after taking an axe to the back for you, I want a raise."

* * *

_A/N: I know, I know, its a little weak, but I wanted to put something out there. I would love to hear what you think about this, though, I kind of worried there was no real plot to it...Anyway, all forms of criticism or praise are welcome. Thank you to Kender and Kitten for spawning this pair in me, and I hope everyone has a wonderful night/day/afternoon._


End file.
